


In The Name of Jashin

by PolyphonicColours



Category: Naruto
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Because what's Hidan without Jashin, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Cult Leader!SI/OC, Explicit Language, Gen, Haikyuu as Side Characters, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Male-Female Friendship, Pre-Naruto Canon Era, Reincarnation, Religion, Swearing, it's the OC don't worry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22233922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolyphonicColours/pseuds/PolyphonicColours
Summary: After dying and accidentally breaking the last Jashin shrine in Japan, the angered God has agnostic Yue Hwa reincarnated into the Naruto world during the Third Shinobi War. Should she be unable to die a natural death, or to convert to the faith and spread it, he will destroy her soul. [Cult leader SI/OC](Also posted on FF.net)
Relationships: Hidan (Naruto) & Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **In Buddhism, enlightenment is the action of attaining/state of having attained spiritual knowledge/insight, which frees a person from the cycle of rebirth. Thus, a person who fails to attain enlightenment has to remain in the cycle of rebirth until enlightenment is achieved.
> 
> Warning: This story will have a number of triggers because the main character not meant to be a good person or someone with ideal morals. There will also be a multitude of expletives, gore, violence, abuse and a lot of other messed up things (tags will be added as the story progresses). So yeah, WARNING YOU IN ADVANCE RIGHT OVER HERE.

I’m not perfect.

By that, I mean that I’m perfectly aware of my shortcomings as a human being. As much as my friends believe that I’ve a bleeding heart, that isn’t true. Sure, I’ve moments when I offer help without thinking about what it involves or whether I’ll get something in return, but I’ve also moments when I offer help so that I _will_ gain something. My mother and sister, on the other hand, are well aware of my ‘venomous mouth’. When angered, I threaten to murder people—have even gone as far as raising a hacksaw at my sister when I was only twelve and she was eight—and when annoyed, I hurl insults without thinking about how much they hurt others. Moreover, I’m a miser, an occasional thief, a constant liar and I constantly view myself as superior to many of the people I know in real life.

In fact, thinking about it now, I’m sure that I’ve committed all of the seven deadly sins to various degrees just so I could climb up to my desired destination. Though, there isn’t anything wrong by desiring a life of comfort and without want, right? I mean, there’s a reasonable number of us in this world who want that, after all. Besides, I’m not the only one who uses their lover to get what they desire.

…Though, I know that I shouldn’t have been so prideful. Not all my lovers will be docile. I’m bound to pick a wrong person sooner or later and it just so happened that my last one prioritized fulfilling an immediate emotional impulse over rationality. That’s why she pushed me off the side of a 400+/- meter tall hill after I told her to “ _suck it up_ ”. I admit, it hadn’t been a smart idea on my part to do that since I knew that she was the type who wanted to be coddled for all hours every day, but I just couldn’t stand her whining anymore. Honestly, why suggest the idea of hiking in the first place when you know you’re physically unfit? The main reason we came to Japan was because she wanted to shop at Ginza, not to hike hills in the same height category as the radar towers of the Dimona Radar Facility and a number of broadcast towers in the USA.

Anyway, she pushed me. I fell, rolled down, and my neck snapped when I hit one too many branches/stumps/protruding rocks. I was dead two seconds before my broken body landed on a small shrine. It wasn’t like I could control where I rolled or whatever but that damned god—Jashin was pissed at me all the same. He ranted at me for breaking his last shrine in Japan, called me a good-for-nothing because I was neither faithful nor faithless before sentencing me to be reborn in a different world.

The Naruto world. During the Third Shinobi War, to be exact.

Why? Because damned Jashin is smart.

Why? Because even though I’m faithless, I don’t disbelieve the notion of hell, the cycle of rebirth, karma and all that jazz. And since I was a Buddhist before I settled on being agnostic, Buddhism still applies to me. Ergo, my soul is a soul that’s chained to the cycle of rebirth until I attain enlightenment.

So, where did the lovely Jashin go from there?

Why, he threatened to destroy my soul!

Never mind that a soul cannot remember anything about its previous lives when reincarnated, the idea of my soul being winked out from existence is horrifying. I mean, I imagine that when a soul attains enlightenment during one of its reincarnations, it’ll remember _everything_ after it’s freed from the cycle of rebirth. So yeah, a winked out soul cements the fact that my life—or more specifically, my _soul_ is meaningless. That everything tied to my soul has no point to it because it can simply be erased by the will of a pissed-off god.

Moreover, like many other superior beings, Jashin made sure that my second life came with stipulations. That is, I must either die a natural death, or convert to Jashinism and spread it. If I fail either, bye-bye soul. So yeah, what better way to raise the stakes for this second life of mine by having it born in a warring world that’s a quarter samurai, more than a quarter civilian and more than a quarter ninja?

(Well, I’d argue that the Tokyo Ghoul world would be more difficult, or maybe the D.Gray-Man world, or Devil Survivor or Bleach—hell, maybe even Pokemon! But eh, the god chose the Naruto world which already has Jashinism existing in it, and there’s no way I’d complain about that to him. I mean, why make my job harder?)

So, fuck my life for I’ve been blessed with the shittiest luck. If I, as Yue Hwa, had entertained the idea that a god of a near-extinct religion could have me reborn into a fictional world I’ve read about, I would’ve stuck to Buddhism and perhaps would’ve never met Jashin at all despite having unwillingly destroyed his shrine. But no, Yue Hwa-me didn’t entertain that idea. Instead, Yue Hwa-me chose to entertain multiple ideas of the existence and the nature of God and anything beyond material phenomena. Yue Hwa-me chose to entertain ideas of parallel universes and multiple dimensions, multiple levels in hell and whether the hells and heavens of various religions actually blended into one hell and one heaven.

Now, it’s too late. I’m a baby wailing at the disgusting feeling of being covered in fluids and chunks—whatever that comes out with a baby during natural birth. I’m being touched, I hear indecipherable noises and I see blurs of light and motion. Soon, I’m placed on a soft and warm surface and I stop my wailing when I feel myself being dried. Immediately after, I give up on staying awake. Being a baby is a good time for me to catch up on all the hours of sleep that I missed as Yue Hwa.

.

.

.

True to popular belief, having a baby’s body as the container of an adult’s mind is frustrating as fuck. Though, that’s only because a) my motor skills are shot, b) the feeling of sitting in a soiled diaper is supremely uncomfortable, c) baby food is gross, and d) teething sucks monkey balls. Other than that, it’s pretty relaxing—after I got over the fact that I’d never see Yue Hwa-me’s family or true friends ever again, that is. (Not that that was tremendously difficult. After having attended more than ten funerals and going through the death of Yue Hwa-me’s father, I’ve long accepted that people will always depart whether it’s because death has claimed them or not.) I’ve more time than ever to plot ways to save my soul and exploit loopholes. I’ve more time than ever to entertain myself with both my imagination and the challenge of trying to remember as many stories I knew as Yue Hwa as possible. I’ve also more time than ever to sleep for as long as I’d like. Best of all, by the time I turned one, I could see and hear better. As a result, I realised a number of things too but there are only three important ones so far:

The first is that I’m fortunately still a girl. I’ve nothing against being reborn as a male but with my current position, familiarity’s my new best friend…Even if I’ve to go through additional years’ worth of periods. My name in this life, on the other hand, is Fumai. I’ve no idea what it means, much less how it’s written but whatever it is, I hope that it’s at least as pretty as my last one. After all, as one of the spoken word artists I like has mentioned in my other life, a name is a prayer for everything the name-giver desires the one being named to be. A name that translates to ‘moon flower’ might sound like Yue Hwa-me had been given no purpose in life but hey, twist it a little and it’s like Yue Hwa-me’s mom had a prayer for me to be born and to grow up as a beautiful woman, no?

The second is that I live in an orphanage. It’s a pretty small one, which I initially found odd since I’m supposed to be born in the Third Shinobi War era. It wasn’t until days later that I saw a hitai-ate and the whole small orphanage situation made perfect sense. Yugakure has strong inclinations towards pacifism, after all. Though, it’s interesting to know that the village has started showing those inclinations at such an early time.

The third and last is that _Hidan_ lives in the aforementioned orphanage as well. It gets better from there, though. Why? Because he’s the polar opposite of who he is when he’s officially introduced in the manga! Granted, he’s only two and a half but it’s still a shock. It had never crossed my mind that the grey-haired Akatsuki member hadn’t always been the foul-mouthed, disrespectful individual he is in the Canon Naruto World.

“Shimizu-nee, Fumai’s awake!” Hidan calls out to the passing matron while I blink up at him. He has a young child’s lisp but he speaks well for his age.

“Ara? Thank you, Hidan-chan. Do you want to eat breakfast with Fumai-chan?”

Shimizu approaches my crib while Hidan lets out an enthusiastic ‘ _Yes!_ ’. He waits with little impatience for Shimizu to change my diaper, though his nose does wrinkle at the smell. His attachment to me may be due to the fact that we’re both deemed as babies by the other orphans but it’s adorable nonetheless. Plus, he’s crucial to my plans. Canon Hidan didn’t convert to Jashinism until after he defected from Yugakure so my arrival in this world would accelerate the conversion of his faith. Though, that’s only based on my assumption that the world I’m in now has the same futures, fates—everything outside of the anomaly that is me, as Canon Naruto World.

‘Today is a good day to test that,’ I think before reaching out for the boy. “‘ida.”

He immediately leans on the bars of the wooden crib and gently takes my hand through a gap, beaming all the while. Briefly, I wonder when Canon Hidan transitioned from being an angel to a devil—or if he had never been sweet like my Hidan in the first place. “Ja…shi?”

“Jashi?” Hidan’s eyebrows furrow. “What’s that?”

At that, I couldn’t help but squeal his name. The facts have been confirmed; my soul will be saved. Hidan—beautiful, _precious_ Hidan will be my first disciple and the most devoted to the faith. He would have no qualms in helping me spread Jashinism, and even if I fail to gain more followers for Jashin, as long as I experiment with the same jutsus as Hidan will/Canon Hidan has, I’ll be immortal as well. I can’t die an unnatural death if I can’t be killed, after all!

‘It’s a win-win situation,’ I giggle. Shimizu gives me a fond look before she instructs Hidan to wash his hands and carries me to the dining room. As usual, the baby food is disgusting but since I’m so happy about having my first disciple within arm’s reach, I obediently eat until I’m full. The corners of the matron’s lips are curled up into an indulgent smile while she listens to Hidan chatter about the things (mostly koi-koi which she utilizes to teach young orphans, and everything he knows about being a ninja) he’ll be teaching me today.

“Eat your vegetables too, Hidan-chan.” Shimizu’s reminder comes with a sharp look that all the orphans cow under. According to Hidan, the matron is a chūnin who used to teach at the Academy. She had resigned so she could take over as the new matron when the previous one passed away at a “ _super-duper old age_ ”.

There’s a little grumbling on Hidan’s side, though he obeys and shoves the vegetables into his mouth. Once he’s done, he carefully brings his tray into the adjoining kitchen. There’s the sound of the stool shorter orphans use to reach the sink, being dragged, followed by the sound of flowing water coming out from the tap and hitting the aluminium sink.

“A cycle of peace and love would be wonderful, wouldn’t it?” Shimizu murmurs while wiping my mouth and removing the dirty bib. I turn my attention away from the direction of the kitchen to the matron’s uncharacteristic sad smile, though it disappears as soon as the sounds of Hidan washing his dishes stop. With one hand, she pats the wisps of dark hair on my head. With the other, she gently removes my grip on the ends of her lavender hair.

‘In a world of ninjas and samurai, that will never happen,’ I laugh while reaching for her hair again.

.

.

.

“Found you!”

A loud squeal escapes my mouth when Hidan swoops forward and sweeps me off my feet. It only lasts a few seconds but those few seconds are enough for me to feel the thrill of being in the air.

“How’s your day today, Hida-nii?” I beam up at him with wide pink eyes. To the blissfully unware, my adoration for Hidan is simply just of a little girl idolizing her older brother figure. It’s horrible of me to manipulate a kid, but I need him to be wrapped tightly around my finger. It matters not that being a ninja is his first priority. As long as my presence is there, somewhere in the background of his awareness, I won’t be forgotten. After all, I’m his number one fan.

“It was shit,” he scowls for a brief moment before panic set onto his features. “Don’t ever repeat that word, Mai-chan!”

“Shit?” I tilt my head to one side, thinking about the fun I’ll have when I reach the Hidan-appropriate age and unlock the ability to curse up a storm twenty-four-seven. Two foul-mouthed Jashinists would be hilarious, particularly since the non-Jashinists would think that every follower of Jashin are as uncouth as we’d be. That damned Jashin didn’t give me any manual or instructions to be the as well-mannered as possible too. I might as well enjoy my long life doing whatever I wanted.

‘Serves the bastard-god right for naming me a pawn,’ I think gleefully.

“Yeah that! Don’t repeat that!” Hidan exclaims, regaining the entirety of my attention. “That’s a bad word. Shimizu-nee will kill us if she hears us say that.”

“Okay,” I readily agreed. Hidan’s obvious relief brings another smile to my lips. We begin walking, heading towards the direction of the orphanage. I, with a sensu in my hand, trying to fan both of us while Hidan complains about the increasing heat. During seasons other than summer, the constant heat and steam from the many hot springs that surround Yugakure are tolerable. It’s just that when summer comes, temperatures skyrocket and the village turns into a relentless sauna. It astounds me that for all the years since Yugakure’s formation, no one has thought of a way to keep the entire village cool during the warmest season of the year. I mean, if there are sealing techniques that allow the storage of one thing into another, create explosions, launch traps and such, why isn’t there a seal that allows the modification and regulation of temperatures?

‘I should ask someone about that one day…’

“Ne, Mai-chan. Are you going to join the Academy next year?” Hidan suddenly asks. Even though he already knows my answer, he doesn’t look at me. It’s cute that he’s afraid that my response would be a negative every time he asks me the same question. Fortunately for him, I never had intentions on _not_ being a ninja. My resolve at the age of two to become a ninja is still the same now that I’m four. After all, what better to be than a wolf in a dog eat dog world?

“Yeah!” I latch onto his arm with a grin, nearly stabbing his side with my sensu in the process of doing so. “I’m gonna be a ninja like you!”

“Yeah!” Hidan cheers. “We’ll be strong together!”

“The strongest!”

“So, you know what you have to do right?” A mischievous gleam appears in Hidan’s purple eyes.

At once, I let out a terrified and long ‘ _Nooooooooooooooooo’_ while running away from his raised hands.

“Tickle monster!!”

* * *

**Omake**

“Ne, Fumai-chan.”

I look up from Kisamechi (Yes, I named it after _that_ Kisame), my little shark bolster that Hidan and Shimizu had collectively gotten me for my third birthday. The matron hadn’t actually wanted to stop at the toy stand but the shark had caught my eye and after some shameless begging and manipulation (i.e.: me unwilling to release the feather-soft and silk-smooth bolster, and the loud declaration that it’s the same shade of grey as Hidan’s hair which in return, convinced the boy that it’s a _“awesome toy that Mai-chan should have!”_ ), she finally relented and told me that it would be my birthday present for that year.

“Yes, Shimizu-nee?”

“Would you like to learn shogi?” she smiles, showing me a wooden box with the kanji for _shogi_ on it.

“Yes, yes!” I drop Kisamechi onto my lap and clap my hands in delight. Every game Shimizu introduces to us is a medium for a multitude of lessons. Through Koi Koi, I’ve learned basic addition and subtraction, some poetry and the Japanese names of months, certain flowers, animals and other things. It’s good practice for one to come up with strategies and tactics as well. I've only won a handful of time against Shimizu (she has insane luck, grr…) but yesterday marks the day I’ve won twenty-three times against Hidan. Of course, he’s still ahead of me by thirty-seven more wins but that won’t last long. I just need to put in more effort in memorizing the rules of Koi Koi and all the yaku!

“Now, shogi might be very difficult for you, Fumai-chan,” Shimizu states while sitting down in front of me. “But, I’m sure you’ll enjoy the game. Tactics and strategies are your favourite, aren’t they?”

“YEAH!”

“Now, this is the shogi board and here are the pieces. This one is the ōshō while this one is the gyokushō,” she explains while holding up the specified pieces. “Both are the most important pieces in the game. They are the kage-equivalents in this game.”

“Why do they have different names?” I frown, noting that in Mandarin, the kanji for ōshō means ‘king general’ while the one for gyokushō means ‘jade general’. Even though a Chinese character can have different meanings in Japanese, I can still get the gist of a speech of text.

“Because the ōshō is for the higher-ranked player or champion while the gyokushō is for the lower-ranked played or challenger, though it’s not necessary to follow that when we’re playing for pleasure.”

“So it’s just to different…to dif-fer-en-ti-ate the kage?”

“Yes,” Shimizu smiles and picks up another piece. “This one is the second most important one. It’s called hisha.”

“Hisha,” I repeat. “Ōshō, gyokushō and hisha.”

“Very good…Now, you see this kanji, Fumai-chan?”

“Un.”

“It’s the first kanji in Hidan-chan’s name.”

‘Fēi, huh? It suits him,’ I blink, quickly recalling Canon Hidan’s fighting style. Then, I gasp and look up with eager eyes. “What does it mean, Shimizu-nee? What does it mean?”

The lavender-haired woman lets out a small laugh, displaying her amusement at my unrelenting adoration for my older brother figure. Now that I’m at an ‘appropriate’ age for walking and running, I’ve taken to trailing after Hidan whenever possible. Fortunately, he hasn’t gotten sick of his attachment to me and has happily welcomed my idolization of him.

“It means ‘flying’. As a whole, Hidan-chan’s name can mean ‘flying steps’.” She picks up another piece—one with Chinese characters that I recognize separately as ‘step’ and ‘soldier’. Together, they most likely mean ‘infantryman’ or in chess terms, ‘pawn’. “This one is fuhyō. The first character here is also the first one in your name.”

My head snaps up from the shogi piece to her face, searching— _praying_ for signs that’ll tell me that she’s joking. ‘A name is a prayer for everything the name-giver desires the one being named to be, a name is a prayer for everything the name-giver desires the one being named to be,’ I mentally chant, trying to remain calm. The matron wouldn’t have purposefully named me after a pawn and I’m pretty damn sure that the woman who gave birth to me wouldn’t have as well—if she actually kept me long enough to name me.

‘That fucking Jashin wouldn’t…He wouldn’t…’

Noticing my growing distraught, Shimizu quickly throws in, “Your name is beautiful, Fumai-chan! Fu stands for ‘step’ and mai means ‘dance’!”

“It’s not!” I wail, no longer able to keep my tears at bay. “Not pretty! Not pretty!”

.

.

.

…It took me nearly two hours to calm down. Not because Hidan (as Shimizu believes) managed to convince me that my name is beautiful but because my distraught had turned into anger. That day was also the day I swore to piss off the asshole of a god as much as possible without actually violating the stipulations he gave with my second life. There was no way that I’d happily fulfil my role as his pawn, considering it was that fucker who decided to make me his ‘Chosen One’ over something stupid that I didn’t purposely do in the first place.


	2. Chapter 2

It didn’t even take a day before I got labelled as a genius at the Academy. Of course, I’m only an _academic_ genius, considering how I suck tremendously (like most kids without pre-Academy training) at the physical aspects of being a ninja. So even though my academic genius goes beyond the highest level taught at the Academy, the most the teachers are able to do is to let me advance one level. Hidan was a little conflicted at first since it used to be _him_ who knew better than I at just about everything, though, we soon worked out a balance.

“You need to reposition your hand every time you throw a weapon,” Hidan lectures while correcting the position of my wrist for the ninth time since we began training thirty minutes ago. “Even a tiny difference can throw off your aim.”

“It’s so difficult, Hida-nee! How can you even tell that your wrist is a millimetre off?” I whine while swiping the sweat away from my eyes and forehead with my free arm. Shimizu has set up another training dummy behind the orphanage so that all aspiring ninjas under her care could train without fighting over whose turn it is and whatnot. (What? _I_ certainly didn’t involve myself in any fight like that! And, I _definitely_ didn’t get swept up by childish anger and excitement and all that. I’m a grown woman, thank you very much!)

“Practice, of course!”

I groan and silently curse the damned god for the umpteenth time today, but reposition myself anyway. Despite my complaints, I’m actually incredibly grateful because my chances of survival are gradually increasing. A month ago, I couldn’t hit a single bullseye at all because I’ve shit eye-hand coordination but now, I can at least hit three out of ten.

After releasing a deep breath, I let the kunai soar out of my hand. There’s a moment of silence when it stabs into a space between two of the outer circles before Hidan heaves a dramatic sigh.

“At least you’re not completely missing the targets now, ne Mai-chan?”

“Shuddup,” I grumble before walking over to pick all the kunai up. Their edges have long been blunted for our safety, which actually makes it tougher to work with but that doesn’t stop six-year-old Hidan from getting ten bullseyes out of ten. Hell, he’d probably be able to do the same with _rubber_ kunai if he had to.

“Shhh!” My grey-haired saviour hisses, eyes darting wildly as though the matron would magically appear out of thin air the moment one of us swears (though, that wouldn’t be far from reality. Shimizu _is_ a _chūnin_ , after all). “That’s bad!”

“I’ll upgrade my vocabulary and swear worse than a pirate one day, Hida-nee. Mark my—”

“Ara?”

Both Hidan and I blanch at the sound of Shimizu’s favourite psychomime. It’s only two sounds and it’s practically meaningless, yet it can be effortlessly and effectively used to convey various feelings and states of mind—like Shimizu’s current displeasure.

“Is that so, Fumai-chan?”

“It was a joke!!” I spin around, eyes wide with panic and fear. Shimizu’s punishments are not to be taken lightly. She utilizes her knowledge of how to wrangle kids from her Academy teacher days to the fullest and I never _ever_ want to have the taste of soap stuck in my mouth. “I was only playing around! You know I won’t do that, Shimizu-nee!”

“Of course,” Shimizu smiles benignly, though the promise of danger still visibly lurks underneath her façade. “There’s no way a person I’ve raised will speak in a less than civilised manner, isn’t that right?”

“Yeah!” Hidan nods furiously along with my answer. There’s a beat before the danger vanishes from the matron’s smile.

“Good,” she says before gesturing at the pile of kunai in my arms. “Return those to the basket and go wash up. You as well, Hidan-chan. It’s almost time for dinner.”

“Haaaaaai,” Hidan and I chime. We hurry to the porch where the basket Shimizu mentioned sits, and Hidan opens it for me to dump all the kunai in before we work on removing our sandals. (And boy, am I glad that we’re not wearing what Canon Akatsuki!Hidan wore because those shoes look like they take too damn much effort. I swear I’m never wearing those shoes, _ever_.)

“Come on, come on,” Hidan grabs my hand the moment my other sandal is completely off my foot, and pulls me towards the direction of our rooms where we grabbed a change of clothes before heading to the only bathroom in the orphanage. It had taken me a while to get used to bathing together with Hidan because a) adult mind in kid body and b) _Ididn’tneedtoseehislittlewillyohmyfuckinggod_ , but the thing with him is that he gives zero fucks about nudity and genitalia. Maybe he’ll start balking at the act of bathing together and his blasé attitude towards genitalia will change when the other boys in our class start talking about cooties and _girls_ or something at a later age. However, right now…well, I’ve resigned myself to sharing a shower and a soak in the bathtub with him until then.

(Meanwhile, Shimizu simply thinks it’s cute for us to be so attached since we’re still kids. I bet that she’ll start flipping out if Hidan doesn’t change when we’re older. Maybe she’ll flip out more if _I’m_ the one who gets used to this and start acting all blasé and stuff—now, that’s a fun idea to KIV.)

I plant my butt onto one of the wooden stools and immediately after, a bucket of warm water is unceremoniously dumped over my head.

“Hey!” I splutter but as usual, Hidan ignores me. Instead, he dumps another bucket of water on me and proceeds to shampoo my hair, working from bottom to top. Sighing, I slump forward and rest my chin on my palm. This is another thing I’ve resigned myself to. Yes, it’s nice and all to have someone do the work for you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to do something by myself now and then.

‘At this point, I should’ve been reborn as a Nara—Nara. Ah, Shikaku’s most likely not married right now,’ I grin at the thought. ‘What are the chances of Shikamaru being born despite not having Yoshino as a mom? Hmm…’

“Your smile is creepy,” Hidan states behind me and for a second, panic swells in me when I remember the mirror hanging on the wall in front of me but I manage to force it back down.

“I was thinking about us maybe being in the same genin team,” I say, going for the topic that I know he’ll instantly latch onto and as expected, he does. He starts talking about the odds of us being put together in a team, and then the pros and cons of every other classmate of ours—from the children of shinobi and non-shinobi clans to the ones who come from families smaller than clans and the ones orphaned. There are many names I don’t know of, which is a problem I have to immediately rectify. Knowledge is a form of power and I need as much power as I can get so that I won’t lose to that damned Jashin.

.

.

.

We don’t end up in the same genin team.

The news is delivered by our straight-faced Kageyama-sensei and it’s devastating for both Hidan (really) and I (not really). I manage to hide my relief at being granted a momentarily but long-standing—or as long-standing as it can be until my team makes chūnin or something—reprieve from constantly acting like Hidan’s Number One Fan (yes, this status has apparently evolved into one requiring capitals). Meanwhile, Hidan sulks as he heads towards his team at the back row, leaving me in the middle with my own teammates.

“Are you sure you two aren’t a thing?” Kenshin asks with a quirked eyebrow. He’s the second son of the Tsugaru, a small but prominent family of herbal medicine merchants in Yugakure, and he’s also the first ninja in his family.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah!” Fukuro chimes in from Kenshin’s left. He’s the youngest child in his family with four older sisters and four older brothers (I know. In the beginning, I couldn’t believe it either but his siblings actually take turns walking him to school and back, and after a month of being in the same class, I saw all eight of them. On top of that, I also met his parents, who run a tea house at the other end of Yugakure, via Shimizu). Though unlike Kenshin, he isn’t the first ninja in the family. In fact, three of Fukuro’s brothers and one of his sisters are shinobi.

“Of course not! He’s my Hida-nee!” I beam, widening my eyes just a touch more than usual to complete Hida-Adoration Look #3. If this were the anime or the manga, I’m sure that I’d have sparkles coming in all directions and a flowery pink background right now.

“Right,” Kenshin answers in a thoroughly unconvinced manner, but he drops the subject. Fukuro, on the other hand, lights up like it’s the first night of the New Years. He immediately leans forward, not caring that he’s getting into Kenshin’s personal space despite the other’s visible twitch of annoyance.

“Siblings are the best, aren’t they?”

“Yeah!”

Then, like a bunch of happy idiots, Fukuro and I high-five each other with both hands. Laughter slips out of my mouth and Fukuro joins in. There’s a small smile on Kenshin’s lips, though he hides it the moment he realizes that I’ve noticed it. At once, the thought that things might not be so bad with my genin team crosses my mind.

.

.

.

“If there aren’t any marked improvements, you won’t be getting any lunch,” Tsukishima-sensei suddenly drawls from his spot under the lovely shade of a tall tree, causing my concentration to snap and in silent acquiescence, I submit myself to the tumble down to hard earth. It’s a fortunate thing that I’m nowhere near the halfway mark up the tree I’ve chosen for today’s team training, but landing still hurts goddammit! I need to learn how to fucking land on my feet or something, aarrrgh!!!

(On the bright side, I’m pretty sure I don’t have chakra imbalance or anything like that. Damned Jashin did something right for once!)

A grunt comes from my left while a wail comes from my right. I don’t bother acknowledging sensei’s statement and instead, work on gathering chakra onto my feet again. I picture siphoning chakra from the rest of my body to the two imaginary pebbles underneath my feet and once they’re both full, I place my right foot on bark. Once I’m sure that it’s stuck, I lift my over foot and begin to walk while simultaneously continuing to siphon of chakra into my imaginary pebbles.

“Looks like you’ve got the hang of it, Fumai!”

And, my concentration is gone like the wind. I quickly slash my kunai at the bark before trying to figure a way to soften my fall because _fuckinghellsincewhendidIgetsohighfuckI’mgonnadieagainfuckingJashinfuck—_

The air in my lungs are forced out the moment my body collides with something more forgiving and softer than the ground.

“Oops,” Tsukishima-sensei says nonchalantly but his golden brown eyes have this gleam of unholy glee in them. “I didn’t know you multitasked worse than a toddler.”

THAT’S IT. I’M DONE.

“I’m fucking twelve you motherfucker did you fucking expect me to have fucking prodigious chakra control and concentration?!”

Two thumps, followed by stunned silence.

“My, my, I didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth, Fumai-chan.” A Cheshire Cat grin appears on sensei’s face. “I wonder what Shimizu will say about this?”

Fuckity fuck, my team’s sensei is a damned Jashin-reincarnate.

.

.

.

In case you’re curious, soap tastes the exact same as the way it smells.

* * *

**Omake**

“Nishimura-san!” Tsukishima calls out to the lavender-haired chūnin who’s in the midst of examining a bunch of edamame. He isn’t even her acquaintance but he has seen her around the village whenever he’s back from a mission—or as of a week ago, stuck babysitting a bunch of ducklings.

“Hello, Tsukishima-san,” Shimizu greets with a polite smile. “Can I help you?”

“Ah, you see, I’m Fumai’s jōnin-sensei right now and I just wanted to ask if she normally curses a lot at home as well?” he raises a hand to sheepishly rub the back of his head. “I was a little surprised when she launched a barrage of them in the middle of training earlier.”

“Is that so?” A dangerous edge creeps onto Shimizu’s smile and glee blooms within Tsukishima’s chest. “This is the first time I’ve heard of such a thing. I’ll talk to her about it later, thank you for coming to me about this.”

“No, no, no,” he raises both his hands and waves. “I was just wondering since I’ve never heard such vulgar language from a kid before…This is my first time having a genin team to look after so I want to do my best for them.”

“Ara? I wish you luck then.” A pause and Shimizu’s blue eyes dart at the edamame she’s still holding—an obvious gesture that she’d like to return to her grocery shopping. “Is there anything else you’d like to ask about?”

“No, thank you for your time,” Tsukishima gives a small bow before turning around to leave. He keeps his expression straight until he’s inside the safety of his home and unleashes the wide grin that he had been warring with.

‘Ah,’ he thinks. ‘It isn’t so boring after all.’


	3. Chapter 3

Team Four’s third C rank is one that involves us guarding a potbellied merchant to his home at Shimo no Kuni, which means training to manipulate chakra into keeping our body warm underneath our cloaks while on mission because Tsukishima-sensei is against us layering clothes until we look like meatballs (which isn’t sensible for shinobi in the first place, anyway) for the sake of warmth.

“And the million-ryō question is, how the fuck does the land go from being heated by hot springs to a winter wonderland to getting constant tantrums from Raijin in the next?” I mutter underneath my breath. The best thing that came out of my swearing episode from the tree-walking exercise is that my teammates (they’re great!) have gotten used to the ‘new side’ of me and Tsukishima-sensei’s (still an S, though a _useful_ S) threat-promises to tell Shimizu-nee has lost its initial effect. “They’re basically one piece of land on the same bloody hemisphere.”

“When in doubt, chakra is the answer!” Fukuro chirps from his position at the point, flashing me a bright grin and a thumbs up—to which my brain decides to provide me with a terrifying superimposed image of Might Gai’s face over his, and it takes all my might (that’s _not_ on purpose) to not fall onto my knees, head clutched between hands and whimper.

There’s a soft but sharp reprimand for Fukuro coming from the other side of the merchant’s caravan (‘Kenshin telling him to quiet down,’ I note while giving the horrible image a mental flying kick out of my consciousness) and Fukuro turns his head the other way. The stallion blocks half of his profile but I know he’s sticking his tongue out at our other teammate. The two have developed a rather strange friendship—not one like Naruto and Sasuke’s before the Uchiha betrayed the village, which would be a giant headache to experience on a daily basis, but perhaps a calmer and more understanding version of it.

I shift my gaze away from Fukuro and scan our surroundings. A civilian’s travelling pace is torturously slow, even with animal-driven vehicles. Though, that isn’t to say that a shinobi’s travelling pace is preferable because while it’s a few times faster, it’s still too slow for a person who has experienced motorcycles, cars, trains and planes.

‘Can Yuki make motorcycles and cars for wide distribution?’ I wonder. Yuki no Kuni is incredibly advanced in technology in comparison to the rest of the countries in the Naruto world, and it’s not really that farfetched to imagine that they could make other modes of transport. However, like many things, there are repercussions. On one hand, it’s amusing to imagine the rest of the Naruto world going through a revolution akin to the British’s Industrial Revolution. On the other hand, there’s the eternal-migraine-inducing reality of driving licenses, tests, classes and whatnot.

‘And the possibility that us shinobi will be left with lesser jobs. I mean, they can’t turn us into drivers…can they?’

The image of (In)famous Copy Nin Kakashi driving a vintage car but still being late to everything and using his lame-ass excuses nearly causes a snicker to slip out of my lips. Then, I think of Sasuke leaving the village in a getaway car driven by Oto nin and Naruto jumping into another one despite having no previous driving experience just to chase after the Uchiha, and it’s almost enough to have me bursting into a fit of laughter when all of a sudden, a flash of silver metal appears in the corner of my vision. I snatch my kunai out of my weapons pouch just in time to parry the blade before a hail of throwing knives descends upon us.

Our client shrieks inside his caravan as his horse bucks. It manages to break the handles by its sides before galloping off, straight through a couple of bandits who fall flat onto the ground. Kenshin, Fukuro and I slide into a tighter manji no jin in front of the broken caravan with readied weapons. There’s no time to check our client’s status or to see if Tsukishima-sensei is also engaged in battle for a scarred giant with an otsuchi comes running at us while bellowing like an angry horn. I’m the first to react, throwing a handful of shuriken right at our opponent’s direction, followed by Fukuro who unleashes an Endan that’s strengthened by Kenshin’s Reppūshō. New screams and bellows signal the arrival of more bandits—three coming towards me and two towards Kenshin. They have kamas, onos and tobiguchis in their hands, raised towards the air and ready to strike our heads open like eggs. I launch my kunai towards the three heading my way before hurrying through both the required kneading of chakra in my stomach and the seals for a Suidan.

“Suiton: Suidan no Jutsu!”

The gush of water that rushes out of my mouth is strong enough to knock the bandits back. It’s a brief reprieve—long enough for me to pull out two exploding tag kunai and hurl them towards the fallen bandits—but because of the amount of chakra required, I can only use the jutsu once.

“FUKURO!” Kenshin screams and it’s only then that I realize that our teammate has gotten caught by the giant of a bandit who now resembles an angry and singed bull. There’s no sign of Tsukishima-sensei anywhere and Kenshin is struggling with even more bandits. It immediately dawns upon me that I’ll have to try to free Fukuro on my own before we can help Kenshin. I scramble for a plan but there’s not enough time. I’m panicking, the giant’s gripping Fukuro’s neck harder and harder so I run, screaming for the asshole to let go but seconds before they’re within arm’s reach, a snap rings through the air and Fukuro falls limp.

I scream again and within the next moment, I’m yanked up and being crushed by hands connected to arms filled with bulging muscles and pulsing veins. Fear overwhelms me and I’m trying to pry the too-large fingers off, trying to kick and kick and kick and not die like Fukuro— _ohgodFukuroohgodhappyfoolishFukuroohgod_.

‘Jashin,’ I cry while Fukuro’s death replays in my mind again and again—a quick moment that flashes by even quicker before it’s joined by the memory of an impending darkness and a vision of death of my soul. A life as Yue Hwa and Fumai and whoever or whatever else erased from existence with nothing else to be remembered by but memories that will grow distant to a god. ‘Jashin! I don’t want to die! I DON’T WANT TO DIE!’

“FŪTON: REPPŪSHŌ.”

The world stops.

**_So you finally pray to me, useless one?_ **

“Ja…shin!” I rasp, latching onto the damned god’s voice. “Please…!”

**_Fear is not true sincerity. Why should I help you?_ **

“A…mi…racle…stop…doubts!”

 ** _Your soul is on the line and you dare bargain for a miracle?_** Jashin’s laughter reverberates. ** _Very well. I’ve long grown bored at your lack of progress anyway._**

The world returns to life and I’m kicking my legs while trying to force my fingers in between the giant’s fingers and my neck again. A thousand curses ready themselves in my mind but Jashin speaks one more time: **_Pray to me every time you fight and spread my name to all._**

At once, realization dawns upon me. This must be the miracle— _this…_!!!

“…Praise…” I start, catching the smirking giant’s attention. “Ja…shin and…his…worthy…name…”

‘…for he has blessed this useless one with a miracle, amen.’

Blue light explodes, engulfing everything within seconds and then, nothing.

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.

.

I wake up to a white ceiling, the sound of curtains lightly dancing in the breeze and Tsukishima-sensei leaning against the wall with an unreadable expression on his face. There’s a bandage on his cheek but otherwise, he looks entirely unharmed. The relief that washes over me is a fleeting one as it’s soon overwhelmed by rage. Fukuro had his head snapped ( _SNAPgoestheneckandhe’sdeaddeaddead_ ) and Kenshin had to fend for himself ( _deadoralivedeadoralive)_. We had been left on our own, three genin with little real battle experience. Three genin on their first C rank that doesn’t involve suppressing or capturing wild animals—a C rank meant for them to gain more experience before their sensei would deem them ready for more intense training specifically geared towards the upcoming Chūnin Exams.

“Where were you—?” I tried to snarl but the effect is ruined the moment my parched throat seizes and a coughing fit racks my body. A filled glass appears before me and with tears leaking out of my eyes, I drink.

“…What do you remember?” Tsukishima-sensei asks once I’m done.

“Fukuro dying, Kenshin fighting, the same fucker trying to kill me too and a missing sensei.”

The small flinch that I barely manage to catch surprises me enough that the rage slips away. Tsukishima-sensei is exceptionally good at hiding behind figurative masks—a fact that became obvious once I realised how similar we were. So, for him to even show a shadow of his true emotions right now means that he’s more affected than I had expected.

“You took out the remaining ones around you with an uncontrolled explosion of chakra,” he informs quietly while setting the empty glass down. “It burned almost everything nearby, though Kenshin managed to react in time and hid both himself and Fukuro’s body behind a tree.”

No mention of the merchant which means…“I killed the client.”

“He didn’t survive,” he confirms.

I grip the blanket and lower my head. Is this what constitutes to a miracle? I’m glad that I survived—that Kenshin and Tsukishima are still breathing. The client doesn’t really matter even though there would be repercussions but Fukuro.

 _Fukuro_.

I hadn’t felt like this when dad died. Hadn’t felt like this when I realised that I won’t see my family or real friends as Yue Hwa anymore. There hadn’t been any weight trying to pin me onto the ground and suffocate me. Why? Why, why, _why?_

“Team Four will be disbanded.”

My head snaps up and I stare at Tsukishima-sensei in disbelief. Disbanded? What does he mean by that? Is it even possible for a team to be disbanded at a moment like this—No, it can. Maybe. I mean, Team Seven didn’t disband when Sasuke left the village but disbandment can happen when a member dies. Maybe. But, shouldn’t we stick together to get through this? We’ve been together for almost a year now so shouldn’t we—shouldn’t we…?

“Kenshin has decided to retire,” the blond jōnin continues. The news stirs a conflict between disbelief and relief inside of me but I push the latter aside for the moment. Kenshin is alive and I can visit him later. Now, though. Now, I have another problem. “You’ll be on standby until you either receive a new team or obtain an apprenticeship.”

“Can I be yours?” It slips out before my brain even processes it completely because on a different day, those words can suggest different things but today’s not a different day. I don’t tear my gaze away from Tsukishima-sensei’s—something I should’ve done because the flicker of surprise in his eyes makes me feel a different type of bad.

“As an apprentice, you will learn to specialise in what your teacher specialises in…I have no specialization.”

And, the rage returns because what kind of bullshit is that? Does he simply not want me as his student anymore? Not want a reminder that I’m alive but Fukuro’s dead? I don’t want to start over with a new team and a new teacher. I don’t want to—

“I’m not lying to you, Fumai-chan.”

“Then, why?” I demand. There’s no way that someone can make it to jōnin without, if not a specialization, personally being better at one thing than the other. A ninja is graded by eight different aspects for their stats, after all.

“I’m not a ninjutsu, taijutsu or a genjutsu expert. I’ve no specialisation in a weapon and I’ve no clan techniques to pass down as well.”

But, there is ANBU, except Tsukishima-sensei can’t tell me that, much less confirm the fact whether he is/was one or not.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs while resting a palm on my head. There’s so much sincerity in his gaze that I can’t help but cry. “I’m really sorry.”

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.

.

Fukuro’s funeral is a private affair.

It’s supposed to be family only but Kenshin who still has stitches on his lips and a limp to his walk, Tsukishima-sensei whose cheek bandage is gone, and I are invited. We stand side-by-side at the back without exchanging words, simply watching the ceremony (and why is it called a ‘ceremony’? It sounds too positive for such a painful thing) unfold before us. There are times when a tear or two falls among us genin but a light touch from the other reminds us that we aren’t alone.

_(Mom’s at the back, laughing with some friends and family while Yue Ling and I fold hell money with an aunt. She’s trying to stay put together, trying to be normal but Yue Ling and I know otherwise. Our mother could barely move, much less talk—a puppet with no puppeteer. But since she’s the only one who can drive—the only adult left in our reduced family, we make her move, make her talk. Somewhere along the line, her conscious clued in on what façade she needs to put on so now, she’s working on her own.)_

Silence befalls the room when the monk’s chanting finally ends. A helper signals the family members to line up so they can have their turn placing flowers around Fukuro’s head. One of the relatives had pressed white chrysanthemums into the hands of the living members of Team Four earlier, and after Tsukishima-sensei and Kenshin, it will be my turn to gaze into the coffin and place my flower in Fukuro’s wooden bed.

_(Our eyes are dry when we carefully layer thin yellow paper with red symbols on top of our father’s body, but unlike my visage of acquiescence, Yue Ling is emotionless. She has finally locked herself into the recesses of her mind, leaving only a body that functions when commanded. There was a dull seed of envy within me when I had realised that, but as the oldest, I have to stay strong. I can’t break down, not then, not now and not until mom properly regains most her bearings.)_

“Rest in peace,” Kenshin whispers in front of me as he sets his flower on Fukuro’s right. Then, he moves and I take his place. The flower feels infinitely lighter than the yellow-red paper Yue Hwa-me had to layer our then-father’s coffin with but that’s probably due to the fact there’s only one now compared to the hundreds then.

“Rest peacefully, Fukuro-kun,” I murmur, unable to come up with something better to tell _happyfoolishnowforeverquiet_ Fukuro while setting my flower beside his odd but beautiful natural white-tipped black strands. It’s weird how genetics works here—

_“When in doubt, chakra is the answer!”_

—or not.

Gently, my knuckles brush against Fukuro’s cold cheek. “I’ll always keep your advice in mind.”

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.

Hidan is waiting for me outside of the Kōtarō home with Kenshin and Tsukishima-sensei by his side, though he pays them no attention. He keeps his gaze locked onto my own, and remains still until I’m close enough for him to yank me into a bone-crushing hug.

“Let’s go,” he says once he releases me. The silver-haired boy gives my remaining ex-teammate and ex-sensei a terse nod before pulling me towards the direction of our home. He only manages a few steps when Kenshin grabs hold of my free hand.

“I’ll see you around?” There’s a silent plea and apology in his gun metal blue eyes—unusual for a boy who has never been afraid to speak his mind.

“Yeah,” I force the corners of my lips to curl up into a smile. The invisible weight on top of me is still as heavy as ever but I can’t let anyone know. After all, I’m the oldest among all of us and as the oldest, I have to stay strong. I can’t break down, not then, not now and not even until everyone but myself has regained their bearings.

_(Is this what constitutes to a miracle?)_

* * *

**Omake**

Hidan watches Fumai approach with a muted solemn air around her and barely manages to reign in his anger. The remnants of her team are standing beside him but they’re useless. Of course, Kenshin and Tsukishima are having a hard time as well and yes, Hidan is trying to be understanding towards them. Trying to wholly believe that Kenshin isn’t simply quitting because he doesn’t want to heal with Fumai, but because he has his own trauma and guilt to face first. That Tsukishima hasn’t become her shishou not because he wants to avoid reminders of his failure, but because he has no official and public specializations on paper.

But, even so, they can’t see. They’re blinded to what is crystal clear to him and that is, Fumai is suffering. She’s being dragged down by something—monsters, ghosts, chains, _something_. And she doesn’t want to tell. The thought makes Hidan want to hurt them, but he knows he can’t.

He reaches out and pulls Fumai into a tight embrace. It’s an effort to make her feel that she has something better to hold her down—an attempt at reminding her that he’s here because right now, the only thing he can do is to reassure her that he’ll never leave her side. That he’ll never let her feel like the universe is upon her shoulders and her shoulders only. That he’ll always be her Hidan even when their bodies have turned to dust and the dust has reformed into bodies with new identities.

They’ll stick together through thick or thin for the rest of eternity.


	4. Chapter Four

The days pass by quickly, undeterred by the tragedy that had just occurred in the lives of many. For me, these days are filled with dedicated self-improvement, Shimizu’s unvoiced worry and Hidan’s constant companionship whenever possible (which isn’t much since he spends the majority of the day with his team). I avoid the places Kenshin and Tsukishima-sensei frequent, the places I think they frequent, and instead, carve out repetitive but alternating paths between the orphanage, local library and Training Ground One. Once a week, at the brink of dawn, I pop by Fukuro’s to leave him new flowers with carefully chosen meanings—an act that leaves me all the more sombre because I’ve come to utilise the kado taught in kunoichi lessons back at the academy for such a purpose.

( _The first time I visited Fukuro’s grave, it was in the afternoon. I had only wanted to visit a boy I’ve developed philios for—a boy who died before he could even move to the next chapter of his life, and instead of the privacy I had stupidly expected, I found myself watched by the man who couldn’t become my shishou. Though he hadn’t shown himself, he hadn’t bothered to hide his chakra signature either. Admittedly, the me that belongs in the part of my life before that fateful mission wouldn’t have sensed him. However, the me that is currently in the after, is different. I had sworn to never be caught off guard by anyone again and diligently worked on improving yet another one of my weaknesses._

_Uncomfortable with someone else being there to experience this moment of vulnerability, I had quickly dropped off the flowers and left. After that, I visited Fukuro at random hours, trying to indirectly tell Tsukishima-sensei off for stalking me until I realised that he realised and backed off. I stuck to visiting Fukuro once a week at the brink of dawn afterwards.)_

“Mai-chan?”

Spinning around and acting as though I hadn’t already sensed Hidan’s approach, I tilt my head—a wordless question that garners a small frown from the boy. I don’t miss acting like a fool (a lie because being a fool gifted me false happiness that could become true), but I do miss the reactions of the people around me when I acted as one. The smiles, the laughter, the ease and content that suffuses the space.

“I’m free today and I heard some interesting things about a place…” he continues, words slow to reflect his uncertainty, though his stance is determined. “Do you want to go exploring with me?”

A happier time from eight years ago overlaps with this moment. The words are different, of course, because we’ve already graduated from the Academy, but the intentions at its core are the same. (There’s a twinge in my heart because a part of me is still that fool, shaped exactly like a little Fumai-chan who loves as ferociously and shines as brightly as the sun, barely tainted in comparison to and definitely not as burdened as Yue Hwa).

“Where to?”

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.

.

The Valley of Hell is a remote canyon located in the Land of Hot Water. It’s at the northwest of Yugakure, and according to Hidan who overheard a bunch of curious tourists inquiring about the place, it’s half a day’s worth of travel at civilian’s walking pace, which translates to it being only an hour or two’s worth of travel at a chakra-assisted running speed.

“How did the tourists know?” I ask as we weave around tall trees and leap over protruding, gnarled roots. A great many of the flora in this land are ones I’ve not come across before in my previous life. The trees close to the village are tall and straight, bald for the most part and reaching skywards as though to avoid the constant heat and steam. The bushes, on the other hand, have leaves thin and matt. There are no flowering plants in close proximity to Yugakure, thanks to the constant heat and humidity that shrouds the place. But, past the edges of the village (literally, because they’re surrounded by cliffs and canyons) on the southwest side, there are lines of cherry blossoms trees that provide a gorgeous view when spring comes.

( _“Yeah, yeah, yeah, the view’s rocking as always!!!” Fukuro cheers as we near the fencing that doesn’t really do much in terms of preventing littles ones from slipping through the gaps or adults from falling over and into the wide gape separating one cliff from another. The picnic is an impromptu thing—something Kenshin and I are a little embarrassed to be a part of because isn’t it weird? A bunch of kids born, raised and currently residing in Yugakure going to one end of their village just to eat a meal on the dirt path in between Ume Hot Spring and Kinmokusei Hot Spring?_

 _“Come on, come on, come on!” Fukuro runs the rest of the way, waving at us so we’d hurry up. Kenshin and I exchange glances before we sigh and give in. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they used to say back in my old life._ )

“The rumour mill isn’t _that_ quiet,” Hidan answers, flashing me another look of relief that I pretend not to see. He’s been like this since I’ve agreed to this little trip, giving me quick glances with that same expression and making my heart twinge more. I hadn’t been actively avoiding him like I did— _am_ —with Kenshin and Tsukishima-sensei, but in some ways, my new chosen routine and my quieter demeanour had also alienated from myself the boy I used to follow like his own shadow.

The eye-watering stench of iron in water hits us before we even reach the Valley of Hell, forcing us to stop as we gag at the putrid odour. I had only smelled this once before as Yue Hwa and that one time was enough for me to remember it forever.

( _My lips thin as I try not to retch at the putrid water covering my body, feeling both horrified and disgusted by how stupid I was to step under the showerhead without first ensuring that the water that came out of it is just ordinary, clean water. It’s not the first time something went wrong during our visits._

_My paternal grandparents are too poor and old, confined to the ground floor of their tiny and aging two-storey home. My aunts and uncles from this side of the family, on the other hand, are useless and prefer to only makes themselves known when there’s a chance of them getting money. It matters not that two of them are living here as well. They won’t fork out money to fix anything broken unless it directly hinders them._

_I turn off the shower and make my way to the bidet, praying and then, sagging in relief when the water comes out of clear and scentless.)_

“Fucking hell,” Hidan spits out before spinning around and doubling back. I follow with the sleeve of my modified yukata covering my nose, desperate trying to breathe in the lavender and lemon of the detergent Shimizu buys for our laundry. Once we’re out of range, we gulp down breaths of clean air and slump onto the ground.

Disgruntled, Hidan shuffles close and buries his face into my thigh, the metaphorical distance between us having vanished as swiftly as that distinctive stench when it invaded our senses. A handful of seconds pass before he starts grumbling, words thoroughly muffled by the cloth of my pants. I ignore him until the awareness of him having stopped in expectation of a response creeps in.

“I don’t speak mumble,” I say in my driest tone. There’s a beat, and then, Hidan snorts, turning so that his face is no longer smothered. The soft grin that greets me makes the twinges go away.

.

.

.

There are corpses everywhere—all fresh because the one I tripped over was very giving, almost as though the person was unconscious instead of dead.

“What the fuck is this?” Hidan hisses as he steadies me, eyes darting from one corner to the other as he analyses our surroundings. He repeats _kai_ under his breath again and again, thinking that it’s a genjutsu, but it’s not. This scene, the name of this place. I don’t know the exact details because my knowledge of what goes on in the Naruto world (canon or not) was never perfect. Yue Hwa-me had fingers in too many pies to bother with a holistic pursuit of anything. But, this.

This, I remember the barebones details of.

“Carnage.”

There are dark patches where blood has seeped into the earth, and I suspect that the red water flowing around us isn’t simply just that anymore. Gore is scattered all over the land and the aftermath of jutsu and violence is everywhere. There is an uncomfortable pressure in my throat—my breakfast wanting to make a reappearance, but I force it to stay down.

( _They wail for dad to wake up, for his spirit to leave his coffin as the incinerator comes to life. The heat is intense despite the cool silver door between us—far reaching and eager to embrace fresh tears and exposed skin.)_

This is something I’ve expected since the beginning. The Naruto world is not kind, after all. It has taken from Fumai just as the world Yue Hwa-me lived in has taken from Yue Hwa-me. Man cannot always be happy, just as a flower cannot bloom forever.

( _A snap rings through the air and Fukuro falls limp._ )

I chose the path of being a shinobi. I chose the path I knew would give me the highest survival rate despite the just as high death rate, so this is what I’ve expected since the beginning and yet.

( _With a distinct but soft_ ting, _the first fragment of dad’s bone lands in the urn_.)

Yet, witnessing a scene like this in reality is different through the screen. Different from reading and then, imagining with my mind’s eye.

( _Without hesitation, tan soil piles up and swallows Fukuro’s wooden bed. It’s almost anti-climactic, compared to dad’s funeral, but the weight is there, a heavy oxblood curtain ready to swallow the world.)_

I pull on Hidan’s arm. “We need to go.”

“Yeah,” Hidan shakes his head hard, as though that would snap him out of whatever and erase the scene before us. “Fuck,” he exhales harshly before dashing to the entrance with me.

* * *

**Omake**

“Yo, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi!”

The two aforementioned jōnin raise their heads at the approach of their fellow jōnin Azumane. There’s a troubled frown on the latter’s face—a common sight since the Third Shinobi War began years ago, though this one appears to be more severe than the usual ones.

“What’s wrong, Azumane-senpai?” Yamaguchi sets down his chopsticks, eyebrows furrowing with concern. After the tragedy that happened to Tsukishima’s team of genin, the blond had become more withdrawn. Yamaguchi had done his best to keep the other from monsters that’d come during moments of loneliness whenever possible, but when Tsukishima puts his mind into something, it’s difficult to stop him.

Case in point: their current having a meal together.

Yamaguchi had to leave a note in his best friend’s apartment the day before in hopes that he would actually show up. And since Tsukishima did, Yamaguchi worked hard at keeping his attention occupied. It mattered not that the blond barely said anything to make their conversation less one-sided, Yamaguchi knew that his rambling was helping a little. The tautness of Tsukishima’s shoulders had lessened as their meal progressed, and Yamaguchi was close to talking the other into a long overdue soak in Tsutsuji Hot Spring too.

An unnatural death is always a terrible thing, more so for those who fell due to violence. It’s a reminder that shouldn’t even _be_ a reminder in the first place.

“One of your students and uh, ex-student,” Azumane winces in Tsukishima’s direction. “They’re at the front gate, demanding for some higher ranked shinobi to scout the Valley of Hell. Seems like Chinoike Clan were massacred—”

Tsukishima vanishes, interrupting Azumane’s explanation. Hurriedly, Yamaguchi apologises to Azumane and drops enough money onto the counter to cover both his and Tsukishima’s food before shunshining after the blond.

The entire way there, he begs for the world to be kind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, throughout the years since I first posted this fic on FF.net, I actually lost the original file where I'm halfway done with the story (that's about 50k words), and I wanted to give up. It took some time before I worked up the will to rewrite what I've lost (that's the month I posted the published FF.net chapters here on AO3), and it took 10 different versions of this new Chapter Four before I gave up and decided to just post it anyway.
> 
> I'm not satisfied with this chapter, but let's have the story move on and end before I come back and possibly rewrite, yeah? ( ´•̥̥̥ω•̥̥̥` )و ̑̑


End file.
